Her presence is like a sweet childhood,
With its careless but thoughtless dare,
Like the verdant, entangled livelihood,
She avails the trailing hands of care.
How she sprinkle her innocence around,
Glad to capture, and delight to see;
Asking questions that always confound;
Teaching lessons to smile even to sorrow sea.
One who loves her, it is joyous revel,
Spreading herself lightly on the lawn,
Her grace is seen, along the level,
Freedom of grace like winds and fawn.
Let it go to the heights; she is nature,
Mercy she's leaving to the little dears,
Strength of limb, and affectionate features,
She is like an anxiety of coming years.
She give it a play, and never fear it,
Her active life has no tear detect;
She never, ever break to go her spirit,
With her elegance she curve it to direct.
Her presence is childhood a fountain welling,
She can trace her channel in the sand,
And its currents, spreading and swelling,
She can revive and perish the withered land.
Her presence is childhood a vernal season;
She can trim and train the tender shoot;
Her softness and love is the kind reason,
She is the blossom and bloom to a raw fruit.
Her tender twigs are bent and folded,
She is an art to nature, beauty lends;
Her presence is childhood that easily mold;
Manhood can break, but seldom bends.
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Comments about this poem (Childhood by Anish Chouhan )
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